A Life Worth Living

By James Hugh Titus

This book is the story of Jim’s life from fetus to an old man. This examination of his life allowed Jim to decide if he was satisfied that he had done his best and that his life had been of value according to his personal standards. Many people would probably not share his conclusions but his story was written primarily for his family. He does not care an iota what anyone else thinks about how he lived his life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Nov 4, 2015
• ISBN: 9781483439280

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A Life WORTH LIVING

JAMES HUGH TITUS

Copyright © 2015 James Hugh Titus.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-3929-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-3928-0 (e)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 10/22/2015

Contents

Preface

Introduction

PART I

FETUS TO MAN

Chapter 1   Gestation and Birth

Chapter 2   Earliest Memories

Chapter 3   An Early Loss

Chapter 4   The War Years

Chapter 5   Rebellion and Escape

Chapter 6   Emotional Detachment

Chapter 7   Go West, Young Man

Chapter 8   Wet and Hungry

Chapter 9   Disappointment in San Francisco

Chapter 10   Reality

Chapter 11   Home Away From Home

Chapter 12   Trapped and Rescued

Chapter 13   A New Life

Chapter 14   A Boy In a Man’s World

Chapter 15   Learning About War

Chapter 16   A Kid In a Candy Store

Chapter 17   The Learning Begins

Chapter 18   Goodbye June

Chapter 19   A Lesson From Dad

Chapter 20   Nina

Chapter 21   North To Alaska

Chapter 22   An Ending and a Beginning

PART II

HUSBAND AND FATHER

Chapter 23   Until Death Do Us Part

Chapter 24   A New Family

Chapter 25   A Necessary Job

Chapter 26   State Police

Chapter 27   The FAA Calls

Chapter 28   Challenge of a Lifetime

Chapter 29   Island Life

Chapter 30   North To Alaska

Chapter 31   Challenges In The North

Chapter 32   A Good Life In The North

Chapter 33   The Cabin Era

Chapter 34   The Strike

Chapter 35   From Tower Chief to Empty Nester

Chapter 36   Anchorage

Chapter 37   Preparing For Retirement

Chapter 38   Life In Chewelah

Chapter 39   Turning Another Old House Into a Home

Chapter 40   Traveling and Chasing Purpose

Chapter 41   Snowbirds

Chapter 42   Failing Health

Chapter 43   Slowing Down

Chapter 44   End of Story

Epilogue

I DEDICATE THIS BOOK TO MY wife and family. My wife, Charlotte, who has been the best partner possible and taught me the meaning of love. My children and grandchildren who taught me that Longfellow was correct when he said: Your children are not your children; they are life longing for itself.

Preface

An unexamined life is not worth living. Socrates, 403 BCE

THERE IS NO DENYING THAT MY interpersonal behavior as a youth within my family was both abnormal and unhealthy. I have vivid memories of my youth and many emotionally significant events and encounters that, against all odds for such a young person, resulted in epiphanies impelling me to think about the long term consequences if I did not change my direction.

With the help of a few compelling people, I was able to make decisions and move in a direction that resulted in a reasonably successful and fulfilling life. Why was such a dysfunctional young boy able to deliberate and decide to move in a positive direction instead of the negative course he had been following since about his eighth year?

Part of the answer lies in the fact that I had good alternatives that were inculcated in me by Catholic Nuns and by the values instilled in me by my father and other adults in my early life. More important, however, was the fact that my early rebellion forced a way of life on me that excluded the pursuit of pleasure and made me focus on the need to make positive decisions that contributed to my subsistence and survival. Of necessity that essentially excluded the inclusion of alternative decisions that would not contribute to those ends.

Which brings me to the point of this book. The only way I could discover how I became me was to examine my life in detail. Writing the story of my life made me reexamine every aspect of my life and led to the conclusion that my life has been worth living. Socrates was right.

Introduction

HOW FAR BACK DOES A PERSON go to begin an examination of their life? When does life begin? What is a life? Modernly we might expect a plethora of different responses to these questions as most people have an opinion or do not have a mind. The first question depends on a person’s memory and I have an extraordinary memory of my early life.

As to the second question, most people nowadays would probably say that life begins when a person is born. On the other hand, I believe that life begins at conception and am unashamedly pro-life; and except for cases of rape or incest or a serious threat of death to the mother, believe that abortion should be treated as a form of homicide.

The third question: what is a life? A life is more than a span of time between birth and death. That would be a lifetime. By definition, life is an accumulation of an infinite number of elements, from congenital genes to external influences, that combine to form an organism with the capacity for metabolism, reproduction, and an ability to adapt to the environment. That definition applies to all things known to be living; including us homo sapiens.

When human life begins has become a very contentious question due to the abortion issue. While there is empirical evidence to support the belief of many that life begins at conception, many women and abortion rights activists in general insist that life begins at birth; thereby providing support for the view that terminating a fetus is no more of a moral issue than taking out the garbage.

Out of context with the question of abortion, the human body life is generally believed to begin with the passage of the child out of the uterus and into the atmosphere where it is viable and can breath. Until the last thirty to forty years, it was commonly believed that the life of the mind began when the delivered child felt the traumatic change of environment, took a breath, and began to perceive, assimilate, and react to sensory perceptions. As studies have empirically proven, the argument for the view that life begins at physical birth must as a matter of reasoning be based on emotions rather than experience or an intellectual examination of the question, i.e., I want it to be so and therefore is it so.

Due to a side effect of maternal secretion of labor inducing hormones, we have no real prenatal memories or memories of our physical birth. We do know enough, however, about the prenatal life of a fetus and of the birth experience to envision and verbalize a fairly accurate description of those incredible and miraculous events in our early lives. While I have no real memory of any of these things, I wish to begin where I know my life began, and to attempt to describe what is perhaps the most traumatic event in our lives, i.e., our birth. Using my imagination coupled with a reasonable layman’s knowledge of the birth process, that is where I will begin.

PART I

FETUS TO MAN

Chapter 1

Gestation and Birth

DESPITE NOT HAVING ANY ACTUAL MEMORY of my prenatal life or birth experience, I know with intellectual certainty that both my mind and body were alive months before my traumatic exit from the womb.

Since my physical and mental development was essentially normal following my birth and throughout my first years of life, I think it is reasonable to conclude that my prenatal existence was normal.

It is likely that I began feeling early in the gestational period. The next sensation I developed would have been the ability to taste the fluids I swallowed. Shortly after gaining the ability to taste, I would have begun to hear muted sounds; some gentle and others were louder and made me fearful. A little while later, I would have begun to see dim light and then begin seeing faint movement in that world beyond my situation. I would have became increasingly active before I developed all these senses, able to touch myself, suck my thumb, and roll around in my warm and comfortable world.

I would have begun dreaming fairly late in the gestational period. The fact that we know that this occurs raises the interesting question as to what we were dreaming about; not having experiences or memories to recall and dream about.

As the time for my birth arrived, I would have suddenly been mentally overwhelmed and involuntarily energized to assist in my expulsion from what Salvador Dali called his intra-uterine paradise. There would have been great pressure on my head as I was propelled head first toward my mother’s uterus. It would have enveloped me and squeezed me as I kicked and tried to push myself through. It would have contracted and squeezed ever harder as I moved forward trying to move my head and neck past this powerful and quivering embracement. It would have been very dark but filled with vivid and beautiful colors. It would have been quiet except that I could probably hear my mother screaming. I could have felt her tensing each time the contractions constricted me and compelled me further through the opening through which I was slowly passing while it squeezed ever harder. The path to expulsion from my wonderfully warm and secure gestational home would have become easier as I passed through the opening, made an arduous turn, and found myself relatively free and on a fairly straight path toward a dim but discernable light. As my head became suddenly free of mother, the rest of me would have followed rapidly and with little assistance.

In my first moments of viable life, I would have found myself upside down and gasping as I felt the air, saw the bright lights and strange faces as cold hands held me and whacked my bottom; after which my lungs would have filled as I took my first breaths and met my mother and father.

Chapter 2

Earliest Memories

MOTHER WAS VERY LOVING WHEN I was an infant. While most people have no memory of their early infancy or childhood; my mother was astounded when as an adult, I related detailed accounts of things that occurred when I was an infant as young as three months.

My earliest memory was of an incident that happened when I was three months old. Mother was bathing me on top of a rubber bassinette like baby bath tub. I was on my back and she was holding my feet and leaning over me with a big smile making mother noises. I peed straight up and into her face. She laughed until she was crying; then picked up and held me very close to her while she rocked and sang to me. That memory stayed with me throughout my life and it’s recollection saw me through some very tough times; in particular the times when self doubts or thoughts regarding my worthiness would surface.

My parents were parents typical of their generation. They were not perfect; and they were not the worst. It would be easy to whine about their mistakes and blame all of my mistakes and missteps on them. Indeed, it would be cathartic as I could avoid accepting personal responsibility for every challenge I failed to meet, every human relationship in which I failed, and generally how my life evolved and I arrived where I am at age 78. That would not be fair to them as they provided for my physical needs and taught me good values. It would also be unfair to me as without their help, I managed to overcome the psychological and emotional impediments to self-esteem and success that came out of my childhood.

Mother and dad were young in their marriage when I was born. They were married on September 23, 1933. Dad was 29 and Mom was 23. Their first child was my sister, Joan Gail, born on March 10, 1935. I was their second child; born 22 months after Joan on January 16, 1937. She and I had a normal brother and sister sibling relationship, both vying for our parent’s time and affection. This sometimes led to conflict for which I was usually and justifiably blamed; Joan was angelic in every way that I can recall, and I was a boy and quite the opposite in disposition. Despite the little sibling quarrels between a big sister and her imp of a brother, I have memories of a deep affection for my then big sister.

While I have vague memories of those early years, I can vividly recall my first exposure to loud and hostile human voices and associated violence.

When I related this story to my Mother, she said that what I described really happened but that I could not possibly have remembered it as I was only a few months old at the time.

My Father was married to a woman (Bonnie) before he met my Mother. They had a daughter named Patricia. She